


whispers amongst trees (this is destiny)

by sailingthenightsea



Series: this is destiny [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Episode: s01e08 Much More, couldn't find one, hope y'all enjoy, i wanted a fic that delved into that scene, just my interpretation of what could happen after this scene, nothing too long, oh and i know nothing of the books/games so this is just tv canon, so i wrote one, this is a stand alone piece but i might do a little sequel later, this is basically just the Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22155499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailingthenightsea/pseuds/sailingthenightsea
Summary: The Lion Cub of Cintra, wild and fierce and strong. Like her grandmother. Like her mother.Like him, something whispers in his mind, but he dismisses the thought. He is not her father.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: this is destiny [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594753
Comments: 32
Kudos: 466





	whispers amongst trees (this is destiny)

As soon as the words are out of the woman’s mouth, Geralt’s heartbeat is pounding and there’s the same familiar destiny-shaped lightning under his skin telling him to _move_. He wonders, distantly, if this is what a human heartbeat feels like, hummingbird fast and leaving him shaking. Somewhere far away above water he hears the farmer and his wife calling out, but nothing reaches him except _she’s here she’s alive I feel her I feel her I feel her_. Underfoot, gravel turns to earth turns to grass and moss and dead leaves.

_The girl in the woods will be with you always._

He doesn’t know where his feet are carrying him but something in his gut pulls him forward, like a string tied behind his navel tugging him deeper into the trees. He knows she has to be here. Somewhere. Against every instinct he’s ever had, he leans into destiny, lets it guide him for once.

But then the pull stops. And he’s left in the middle of the woods. Alone.

The disappointment is familiar as it sinks like a stone in his stomach, but that doesn’t lessen its bite. He has spent so long believing his only choice is to be alone, and yet one tiny inkling of a chance of having _someone_ had filled his chest with something light and shaped like hope.

Now the space between his ribs is empty. It is aching.

The life of a Witcher is not one fit for company—let alone a child. It is a lesson he has learned over and over again. Those who manage to get close to him either leave or die horribly, both because he failed them, one way or another. He knows this, has always known this.

And yet he gives it another moment to search the trees. Lets the hope hold out a heartbeat longer. He stopped believing in things like destiny a long time ago, but, standing here in the woods completely and utterly alone, he _wants to_. So he tries, for one more brief second, he tries to believe in something other than what he knows.

Still, there is only silence.

He sighs and turns away. Swallows the emotion creeping up the back of his throat and begins walking towards the farmhouse.

He only makes it a few feet when suddenly the pull goes taught, yanks so hard it almost hurts, and he freezes. Slowly, like he’ll lose the feeling if he moves too suddenly, he turns back around.

Another tug and his breaths come short as he searches the trees. There is nothing and nothing and nothing until—

His eyes catch a flash of white gold in a sea of green and brown and Geralt’s heart may bruise his ribs. She’s running through the trees as fast as her feet can carry her.

There’s a lot of time in between his heartbeats, so much more than a human’s, even in its quickened state. In that space, which stretches for what feels like a brief eternity, he takes her in. The hair, like her mother’s, like sunlight streaming down her shoulders. A filthy blue cloak that’s stained with mud and fraying at the edges, but he can tell from here that it was well made. As she runs, it catches the wind and flaps open to reveal once fine clothes in a similar state of wear—wrinkled, mud-caked, torn, and frayed. There’s dirt on her face, as well, and twigs caught in her hair.

It occurs to him, absurdly, that he’d never seen her look regal. The first time she had been disguised as a commoner, though he recognized her before her title was spoken. And, now, muddy and wild and running to him. He does not see a princess that is weak and coddled—he sees the Lion Cub of Cintra, wild and fierce and strong. Like her grandmother. Like her mother. _Like him_ , something whispers in his mind, but he dismisses the thought. He is not her father—he is just the man who claimed a power over her life he had no right to. He will protect her, now—of course he will—but he will not forget his place. Will not try to force his way into her life beyond that.

Then she comes to a stop a few feet away from him. Staring at him like she recognizes him and she probably does—as he did her.

Looking into her eyes this close—his heart picks up its speed even faster. He swallows thickly. He wants to reach out, to touch, to prove she’s there, safe, real, _alive_. But he doesn’t. Doesn’t push it. Doesn’t force it. Allows her the choice. He’s a stranger to her, after all. She may not even know why she had to find him in the first place.

But then she reaches her arms out to him and rushes forward and for all his training and all his reflexes, all he can do is open his own and make one step before she’s crashing into him and holding on tight. He closes his arms around her, holds her, and something bright and warm blooms in his chest and his heart slows to normal and he thinks _oh this is destiny this is right this is where I belong_.

Without really intending to, he says, “People linked by destiny will always find each other.”

And Cirilla pulls just far enough away to meet his eyes and she looks _so young_ it makes his chest ache. Her bright blue eyes are wide open and honest as they flit between his before she asks, “Who is Yennefer?”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it!! drop a kudo or a comment to lmk! and check back later for a sequel if you like! fair warning: there will likely be more violence and a touch of geralt/yennefer (but the story will still be ciri and geralt centric).
> 
> hmu on [tumblr](https://sailingthenightsea.tumblr.com) :)


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